Chapter Twenty-One
Christien stared at the papers before him, unable to recall what they were about or why they seemed so important days ago.
On a surge of anger, he swept them away.
What the hell did real-estate contracts matter now?
What was the point of acquiring more property, of earning more money when he had no one to share his accomplishments with?
He furrowed his fingers through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. He wanted to share it with Madelaine, but she was pulling away from him. He didn’t know what to do to stop her other than give her the space her eyes silently begged for even though everything inside him told him not to.
What he wanted was to hold her tight, to never let her out of his sight, as if proximity would solve everything. For so many years his sheer force of will got him what he wanted but it wouldn’t work now, not with this situation, and he was more than a little lost.
He couldn’t force her to accept his immortality or the fact she was adopted or she had a sister or her bloodline was the key to the end of the world. So many things he’d confronted her with in such a short period of time.
She wanted space? He’d give her space. It was the least he could do. That and pray like hell she’d come back to him when she sorted everything out in her mind.
Or would she come back to him?
Unable to sit still any longer, he paced, the papers he’d swept off his desk crumpling beneath his feet.
Once again he’d fallen in love with Madelaine and once again she was, as they said in modern times, out of his league.
More so now than ever before. He thought her bloodline the upper echelon of nobility back then, but that was nothing compared to what he knew now. She was way beyond his humble origins.
He stopped to stare out the window. The hollowness inside him grew until there was nothing left but a gaping hole he’d lived with for so long.
Until Madelaine walked into his nightclub, he’d become one with it.
She’d filled the darkness with her laughter and quirky humor, with her honesty and humanity.
A humanity he’d lost after so many centuries.
She’d given him so much and in return he’d taken everything she’d ever known about herself and destroyed it.
He spun on his heels and bowed his head, fighting the despair threatening to pull him under. Surely she’d understand he had to tell her about her family, that because of her bloodline it was imperative she know about all of it.
Surely she’d understand she was his priority now. He would guard her with everything he had because she was the Blood of the Lion of Judah. But more importantly, because she was his and his love for her demanded nothing less.
She’d understand.
Wouldn’t she?
With a strangled sound he lifted his head and tilted it back to stare at the ceiling, blinking the sudden wetness from his eyes.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. For a long moment he ignored it but the damn thing wouldn’t stop and he jerked it out with a muttered curse.
He had to clear his throat before answering. “Chevalier.”
“She’s gone,” Ronald said with no preliminaries. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how she slipped past me, but Giselle is gone. Flight records indicate she headed to France.”
“When?” Christien wasn’t surprised Giselle had figured out where they were. He was surprised she’d figured it out so fast though.
“Close to twenty-four hours ago.” Ronald’s voice held a trace of apology. Christien didn’t blame Ronald. He couldn’t have kept Giselle in the States against her will without causing some sort of uproar.
However, twenty-four hours meant she was close, quite possibly even here.
“Lucheux?” he asked.
“We’re attempting to locate him.”
“Let me know when you do.” He hung up and strode into the hallway. The battle had begun. A sense of anticipation that their time had finally come swept through him and it wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. He was a soldier at heart and it’d been a long while since he’d engaged in any sort of battle.
“Madelaine!” His voice echoed off the high ceiling and bounced off the walls. An eerie silence followed, making his gut clench.
He took the steps to the upper floor two at a time, calling her name, but the rooms were empty.
Surely she hadn’t left the house alone without telling him. But he knew she had because she didn’t know what he knew. That Giselle had disappeared. He told her she would be safe here and he’d been wrong.
A quick look outside confirmed his car was still there, so she hadn’t driven anywhere unless she’d taken one of the staff cars, but he didn’t think she even knew about the staff cars.
Which meant more than likely she’d gone for a walk.
How long ago?
With long, purposeful strides he crossed the foyer and entered the formal sitting room.
He took down the sword hanging above the fireplace and grabbed a dagger nestled in a glass box.
Weapons from a time long gone but they were comfortable in his hands, like they belonged there, and he thanked God he’d kept them in fighting shape.
He pushed at a wall panel behind his desk.
It swung open, revealing a safe. Inside were more modern weapons. He snagged the 9mm handgun.
Giselle couldn’t die, but Christien could hurt her, and even stop her for a period of time. Long enough to get Madelaine the hell out of here and somewhere else. Somewhere safer.
Then what? Neither Lucheux nor Giselle would give up their quest for her and it would be an endless road of running and hiding, constantly moving, never settling down.
That wasn’t the life Madelaine deserved.
She deserved a husband who worked nine-to-five, who would give her children, who would grow old with her, retire with her so they could travel the world.
Not an immortal man whose purpose was to protect the world from Armageddon, and who could only give her chaos and disruption.
He ruthlessly shoved those thoughts away. He couldn’t do anything about that. Now he had to find her.
His gut told him to go to the cemetery and his gut was rarely wrong. But when he got there, the cemetery was empty save the chirping birds in the trees and the silent tombstones. No Madelaine. He turned in a circle, searching the area around him, straining to hear her.
“Where are you, mon couer? Where did you run off to?” Maybe she’d merely gone for a walk to be alone to think. Maybe that’s how it started. But now everything inside him told him something was terribly wrong.
A scream pierced the air, far off and distorted by the surrounding trees.
Christien’s head jerked around. His heart thundered.
He took off running toward the sound coming from deep within the woods.
He heard it again, his name screamed from far away.
There was a path somewhere around here but he hadn’t been in these woods enough to know where and he didn’t want to waste precious minutes trying to find it when the most direct route seemed to be through the thick foliage.
Branches reached out to him, tearing his shirt, raising bloody scratches on his arms. He used his sword to hack through, cursing and grunting with the effort. And through it all he listened for the screams that turned his blood to ice.
Please, God, please. He would not lose her again.
He was coming up on a clearing. He remembered walking through there a few times but didn’t remember specifics about it.
Only that it wasn’t large and was surrounded on all sides by trees.
Slowing his pace, using the trees as cover, he approached.
What he saw made his barely controlled fury break loose.
Madelaine was in the clearing with Giselle on top of her.
Strangling her. Madelaine’s fingers clawed at Giselle.
Her feet fruitlessly kicked at the hard-packed dirt.
Christien charged in, sword raised, a battle cry on his lips.
Giselle jumped off Madelaine and scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide in terror.
Madelaine rolled to her side, coughing and drawing in large, wheezing breaths.
He gave her a passing glance to reassure himself she wasn’t badly hurt, then stalked toward Giselle and pressed the tip of his sword against the woman’s throat.
She backpedaled, her gaze locked on the weapon until her back hit a tree.
“No,” she whispered.
“Oh, yes,” he whispered back.
She straightened, her terror giving way to arrogance. He’d always thought her arrogance would be her downfall. “You can’t kill me.”
“No.” There was true regret in his voice for he’d like nothing more than to kill Giselle. With a growl, Christien drove his sword through Giselle’s throat, pinning her to the tree. Her eyes widened in shock. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. “But I can hurt you.”
“And I can hurt you.” The tip of a blade pressed against Christien’s back just beneath his ribs where he was most vulnerable.
Madelaine cried out. He stilled. Damn it!
Lucheux. Where the hell had he been hiding?
Too late Christien realized his mistake.
He’d been so furious at Giselle, so terrified for Madelaine, he’d ignored his training and rushed in before assessing the situation. Lucheux must have been hiding. Waiting.
Lucheux shoved his dagger through Christien’s back, yanking it up and ripping him open. Christien screamed, arching his back. White-hot pain raced across his spine. His knees folded.
Madelaine called out his name and launched herself at Lucheux, landing on his back and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her fingers clawed his cheeks and eyes. He staggered but managed to remain standing.
“No,” Christien breathed. The word was faint, barely there.
Like Giselle, he wasn’t going to die, but he was going to pass out and he had no idea how long it would take for him to heal. That left Madelaine vulnerable and alone with Lucheux. His fault. He hadn’t protected her as he should have.